


Here

by ashley_ingenious



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic, the foxhole court
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6523687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashley_ingenious/pseuds/ashley_ingenious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kissing Andrew MInyard was the most dangerous thing Neil had ever done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for this fandom! It's split into 6 chapters and I'm done with four of them. The first three are up today and the next three will (hopefully) be up tomorrow!

1.  
Kissing Andrew Minyard was the most dangerous thing Neil had ever done. 

He never forgot himself the way he did when he was kissing Andrew. Neil had been through so many names, but when Andrew’s mouth, Andrew’s hands, were on him, he had none. He was just a body, a tool for Andrew to manipulate as he saw fit. An inferno on a leash. He felt wild, felt like he was spreading everywhere. Everywhere. But his hands stayed clenched in fists so tight that he couldn’t feel his fingers. 

Andrew’s teeth bit down hard on Neil’s bottom lip and _God_. Neil had never known that pain could have so much pleasure in it. He didn’t know how to reconcile that with everything he’d been through. So he didn’t. He just moaned, a raw thing that sounded like he felt. 

And Andrew hummed back into his mouth like a promise, and then his hands were slipping into Neil’s pockets, over his clenched fists, lifting them up and out. Tangling them in his golden halo of hair. 

He broke their kiss, his normally flat eyes an unreadable riot of emotion. Neil’s breath caught. If he was an inferno, then Andrew was chaos itself. 

“Just here,” Andrew told him, and waited for Neil to acknowledge. 

Neil managed a loud swallow and a hurried nod before Andrew’s mouth was back on his, hand sliding over Neil’s fly, and it was all Neil could do to just hold on. 

They’d destroy everything they’d ever known about the world like this: tangled together, breathing too heavy and feeling too much. 

And Neil would enjoy every minute of it.


	2. II

2.

There was an expiration date on everything in Andrew’s life. Nothing lasted forever, some things just went to shit slower than others. Shrinks said it was unhealthy to think that way, that it was pessimistic. 

Andrew was standing three blocks away from the stadium, holding Neil’s gym bag, his phone. He was gone. He’d gotten a call, and disappeared. 

It felt like his lungs were full of water. It felt like he was walking on glass. There was so much he didn’t know. Had Neil left? Finally succumbed to the cowardly urge to run and just _left_ Andrew here? It hurt too much to think about. Not the betrayal, just that Andrew had been so cock blind he hadn’t seen it coming. That he’d thought Neil was above this, at least. Better than this. 

_You were amazing_ , he’d said.

Andrew might throw up. 

Shaking himself, he moved to other, more actionable possibilities: that Neil’s past had finally caught up with him, that he’d been _taken_ away.

That thought didn’t hurt. It just made him angry, made him burn to wrap his hands around something and squeeze.

He knew exactly where he’d start.

\--

Andrew slammed into a Baltimore hotel room, dragging Wymack behind him through sheer force of will, only to stop short at the sight of Neil.

Andrew had broken his promise.

And those assholes had broken Neil’s _face_. 

There was a Catholic dedication to the way Andrew catalogued Neil’s injuries. A penance in every scrape, every bruise. He reminded himself with every wince and tense of Neil’s muscles that this was what happened when Andrew broke his promises. He’d never forget again.

Then the bastard had the nerve to apologize. And Andrew just wanted to break him. To erase him, so that he’d never have to feel like this again. 

The feeling stayed, self loathing warring with a protective instinct borne from gnawing guilt. 

Until Neil placed two fingers over Andrew’s heart. Andrew hadn’t given his permission, but the thunderous heartbeat in Neil’s fingers against his chest was something he needed like breathing. It was nothing he ever would’ve thought to ask for. 

\--

Neil Josten was not a good thing. 

He was a weakness to be exploited. Something people could throw in Andrew’s face now. 

And it’s not that many would, but Aaron had. 

Aaron had, and Andrew had been stuck again with that underwater, glass and burning feeling of being unprepared. He hated that feeling. 

He’d just gotten him _back_. He wasn’t going to lose him again. And if that meant Aaron’s thing on the side had to become a more central thing, well. Andrew was owed a vice. He deserved one. 

Aaron would just have to fend for himself. 

\--

No one would ever know, but Andrew still dreamt of those two fingers pressed against his heart. He ached for it. 

And he deserved this vice. So he took Neil’s hand, and placed it on his own chest, thinking, “here.” 

He knew Neil wouldn’t move it, wouldn’t do anything else. And he knew it didn’t matter if Neil Josten was a good thing or not. Their racing heartbeats were a feedback loop that sang through Andrew’s blood. 

Neil was alive. That was enough.


	3. III

3\. 

Andrew had nightmares that they didn’t talk about. This one was worse than usual. 

Neil had woken up when the tossing and turning started, tried to ignore it and put himself back to sleep. He always felt like a peeping Tom, watching Andrew that way. Andrew was open in sleep in a way he couldn’t quite manage when he was conscious, and Neil didn’t want to take advantage of that. 

When Andrew opened himself, Neil wanted it to be intentional. 

But this one was bad. Andrew was clawing at his face, leaving deep, red welts on his cheeks. 

Neil moved without thinking. He rolled over and pinned Andrew under his body, holding his wrists while the older man thrashed beneath him.

It only took a moment for Andrew’s eyes to open. He heaved in a breath. 

“No,” he croaked. And Neil noticed for the first time what it must look like, what it must _feel_ like for Andrew. He scrambled off of him, off of the bed, positioning himself in a corner. 

“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “You were hurting yourself. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

They were silent in the dark room. 

“Why are you even still here?” Andrew ground out eventually. 

Neil nodded. Of course. Andrew deserved his privacy. He moved to leave. 

“No,” Andrew called after him, his voice almost a whine.

Neil paused. 

“I meant. Why are you still…trying…with me? I’m not…” 

Neil perched at the edge of the bed. He shrugged. “I love you, probably.” 

“Don’t say stupid things.” Andrew spat. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” Neil replied gently. 

They were quiet another moment before Andrew murmured, “come here.” 

Neil crawled back over to his side of the bed. 

Andrew climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. He picked up Neil’s hand.

“Not here,” he said, gripping Neil’s wrists the way Neil had earlier. “Never here.” 

He moved his hand up, lacing their fingers together. “Here,” he said, squeezing. 

“Okay,” Neil nodded into the darkness. 

Andrew laid his head on Neil’s chest, their hands still tangled together. They slept that way.


End file.
